Road Trip
by Isodriel
Summary: When Connor goes on the road trip of a lifetime, it's guaranteed to be a wild ride. (VII: The road trip comes to an end - but another chapter in Connor's life is just beginning...)
1. The Chance Of A Lifetime

**Chapter I: The Chance Of A Lifetime**

**C**onnor was restless. He had been wandering all day and a good few hours into the night, but he still couldn't shake away the feeling that overcame him at every street corner and side alley – the feeling that there were better places to be, and that he could easily get there if he tried.

But, although he had wandered several miles away from the Hyperion, it felt as though they – Angel and the rest - would _know _if he tried to run, and somehow bring him back. There was an invisible cord tugging at Connor, slowing him down and forcing him to stay inside LA city limits. 

It was as though a leash had been slipped around his neck by his own father. The word "father" meant nothing to him anymore. It was simply a term used to describe the man who thought of Connor as his property – nothing more, nothing less.  

After passing the seventeenth hotel and forty-eighth drug store he'd seen that day, Connor had to slow down. He knew he was getting nowhere, and – accelerated speed, strength and muscle capacity aside – he was beginning to feel tired of walking. He needed a break - and he knew just where to get it. 

**"C**onnor." Lorne was surprised to see him, but it didn't diminish his welcoming smile. "Does Angel know you're here?" The demon actually had to half-yell to make himself heard over the noise of a she-demon doing "I Love Rock 'N Roll" to avid applause and hooting from the bar's male patrons.

"No. And I'd like to keep it that way," Connor yelled back, hiding his irritation at the mention of his father's name. Why was he always treated like some household pet of Angel's that needed taming? Connor had walked away from the bar counter long before Lorne started to say something else; he didn't need a third degree from a demon who could be reading his thoughts as he spoke. 

Connor practically had to force his way through the crowded bar to get to an empty table at the back, and when he did he found it occupied by two young men who looked fairly human in comparison to the rest of the crowd. 

One of them glanced up briefly while Connor sat down, but he didn't say anything. It was then that Connor noticed that they had looked older from far away – up close, they didn't look over seventeen or eighteen. And on closer observation, they looked a lot less human. 

The boy who had glanced up at Connor had strange, iridescent irises that gently shifted from one color to another as his gaze moved, and the other had two diagonal vivid orange slashes across his cheek; the slashes glittered dimly in the artificial lighting and contrasted with his dark skin. Apparently, they were both either passively or only partly demon.  

Even after Connor had sat down, none of them spoke. Mentally, Connor noted that he could probably take each of them on in a one-on-one battle, but fighting them both together might prove to be a problem. Still, it didn't look like it would have to come to that – yet. 

The she-demon who had been performing finished up her set to thunderous applause. The boy with the slashed cheek whistled loudly, but his companion only looked relieved. 

"Finally, I can hear myself think again," he commented dryly. The other boy shook his head. "You do too much thinkin' already." Then he grinned. "But even you gotta admit, that girl was steamin' up there."

"Only if 'steaming' means she sang like a drowning cat," the first boy retorted, his eyes shifting from smoky gray to clear blue as he spoke.

"Whatever, man. I still say she rocked." He suddenly looked at Connor. "What about you? Wanna give us a third opinion?"

Connor shrugged. "Good enough, but not very impressive." To tell the truth, he hadn't been listening to the she-demon at all, but he knew it was safe to give a neutral opinion.

"Very democratic," the first boy noted, taking Connor in for the first time. He paused for a moment, and seemed to be analyzing him before nodding appreciatively. "I'm Bryce," he told him, "and this is Tyrone."

"Connor," he responded briefly, relieved that he wouldn't have to give a last name.

"So, Connor – you live here in LA?" Tyrone asked. Connor just nodded, deciding it was best to keep from giving away more information than necessary. 

"Tyrone's from New Orleans," Bryce supplied. "We met here a few weeks ago – I was passing through from San Diego."

"And since we were both on our own, we figured we'd team up," Tyrone continued. "Take on the open road, you know? Anyway, it beats travelin' alone."

Connor wondered why they were telling him all of this, but listened in silence – it wasn't like he had anything better to do.

"We've planned out a road trip along the coast that should take us nearly all summer," Bryce explained. 

"Yeah – we got no responsibilities, no one watchin' us, and all the freedom in the world: we can do whatever we want, whenever we want, and there's nothin' around to stop us," Tyrone said, relaxing into his chair with a grin.

Connor couldn't help the twinge of envy he felt. Here he was, trapped in one place, and these guys were living out exactly the kind of life he had wanted for the last couple of weeks.

Tyrone had been watching Connor closely for the past few minutes, and a smile was starting to dawn on his face. "Hey…" he said slowly, "you got any plans for this summer?"

Connor blinked. "What?" 

"Well, the way I see it," Tyrone said, glancing from Connor to Bryce, "is this: we've got enough funds to take us both wherever we want plus a set of wheels, and it's only the two of us – so if you don't have anything to do this summer, why not join the group? We could easily make room for a third member."

"It could work," Bryce agreed. Connor could tell he was still thinking it over, but he seemed to be in favor of the idea. As for Connor himself… He'd spent all his life in a Hell dimension and had gone through more in seventeen years than most people went through in all their lives. He needed a vacation.

"All right," Connor finally agreed. "I'm in." After all, it was only for two months; he would eventually be coming back. And Connor had been trained to survive, not sit around and try to blend in with the crowd - this was the chance of a lifetime for him, since Angel would probably never let him out of his sight in the future.

"Great!" Tyrone grinned. "Trust me - it'll be the party of our lives."

"So, what's the next stop on the route?" Connor asked, already beginning to adjust to the situation. 

Bryce took out a folded map from the inner pocket of his jacket and spread it out on the table. He traced the red line marked out along the coast with his finger until he found a town only a few miles from LA. 

"Here," he said, turning the map around so Connor could see it better. "Next stop: Sunnydale, California." 

**Author's Note: **A little sketchy for a first chapter, but I'm only just getting started. As always, reviews and opinions are welcome, and could probably be helpful.  


	2. Viewing The Scenery

**Chapter II: Viewing The Scenery **

**T**he "set of wheels" turned out to be a minivan large enough to fit up to seven people, but not too large to get on the road. Bryce explained that his mother had lent it to him in the belief that he was going on a tour of potential future colleges, and Connor accepted the explanation. As long as it worked, they could've told him it had dropped out of the sky as a gift from the God of Minivans and he couldn't have cared less. 

"All right – so all we've got to do is clean this place out before we leave. It shouldn't take too long. In the meanwhile, you might want to get some packing done."

Connor thought briefly about challenging the tone Bryce had taken – a tone that bordered on commanding – but then realized that it would be useless, since Bryce didn't even seem to realize how domineering he'd sounded. _Probably used to getting his own way, _Connor concluded. 

Well, that was definitely going to have to change. 

**W**hen he got there, the Hyperion was empty. Connor called out a few times, but no one answered and the place seemed dead; the lights were off and most of the doors were locked, which wasn't much of a problem since Angel had already graced Connor with a couple of spare keys.

There was a note lying on the lobby desk, but Connor ignored it – he already knew that it would only contain some brief words from Wesley telling him where everyone was and how he could reach them. 

_They're probably at the office, _he decided. They all called it "the office" now – no one wanted to refer to it directly as Wolfram & Hart. The more vague they were about it, the easier it was on everyone. 

In his room, Connor quickly located a backpack that he had tossed underneath his bed – a gift from Gunn as a preparation for college – and tossed into it the few clothes and items he found scattered around the room. It only took him a few moments to finish, and in three minutes he was already out the door. 

**"S**o, we're all set," Bryce said, sliding behind the wheel of the van. Tyrone slid in beside him and Connor took a backseat near the window – strange as it would have sounded to anyone who knew him, he didn't want to miss watching the scenery flit by. 

"Whoa… Check out the air rush," Tyrone grinned, pushing his head sideways out of the window so that the air blasting past him – Bryce was just over the speed limit by a few miles – whipped his dreadlocks around his head. Bryce shook his head and Connor almost had to laugh; at first sight, Tyrone looked like a real fighter; now Connor realized that in many ways he was still just a child. 

"How long does it take to get to Sunnyvale?" Tyrone asked, eventually bringing his head back in through the window. 

"Sunnydale," Connor corrected him absently. 

"Whatever, man. How long?"

"A few hours," Bryce answered. "It isn't very far, but there aren't a lot of highways near that area."

"Why do you guys want to go to Sunnydale anyway?" Connor didn't really want to hear the answer – he was just remembering everything that Cordelia had told him about it. Apparently, one of Angel's old girlfriends lived there – she was supposedly a Vampire Hunter, or something in that direction. _But with all the girlfriends he's had, she might be eighty years old by now. _

But no, Cordelia had said the relationship was quite recent. And there had been something else – something important about Sunnydale… What was it? 

"What do you mean, why go to Sunnydale? Every demon on the coast goes to Sunnydale – it's California Demon Party Central!" 

Bryce rolled his eyes and turned to Connor. "It's otherwise just known as the Hellmouth."

Oh, _right_… Now he remembered.  Connor sat silently for a few moments. 

"And again - _why _do we want to go there?"

**Author's Note: **This chapter is a little shorter than the last, but I think it's better if I end them in appropriate places than if I just stopped at the end of every page. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it – and yes, the Sunnydale crowd _is _involved in all this. They should be showing up in the next chapter, hopefully along with any action that seems to be missing in the first chapters. 


	3. A Reason To Party

**Author's Note: **Although this fic is slightly AU, it runs basically on current events (post-"Chosen", post-"Angel") but I've changed a few things here and there. For example, I've chosen to ignore the spell that Willow performed in "Chosen" – Buffy is still the one and only Slayer, although the Potentials are around.

Other than that, Spike, Anya and Cordelia are gone (I never found out exactly what happened to Cordy, by the way), but _might _be coming back and Sunnydale has had time to be rebuilt (I mean, come on – play out a fic in an incinerated town?). Everybody else is around, including Faith and most of the Potentials (Eve, Vi, Amanda, Chloe, Kennedy, Molly and Rona.) 

And relationships are pending, but it could be either Connor/Dawn, Connor/One of the Potentials or Connor/Original character. Actually, I would love to have a vote on that one – just leave a review and tell me which kind of relationship you would rather see Connor have. 

**Chapter III: A Reason To Party **

**N**ight had already fallen when the van passed a crooked green sign reading "Welcome to Sunnydale". To Connor, it looked as though the sign had been knocked over and re-erected one too many times; but what he didn't know was that practically every raid on Sunnydale began with the Sunnydale road sign being knocked over - by now, it was almost a tradition. 

"Great, we made it. Now let's see if this place lives up to its reputation," Bryce said, noticing the sign. 

"Last I heard, they had some kind of Doomsday thing down here. Word has it the Slayer destroyed some bad-ass demon guy with a witch, a vamp, an ex-demon and a band of junior Slayers as backup." Tyrone shrugged. "Can't always trust word on the street, though - most of it's prob'ly just rumors."

"Junior Slayers?" Bryce repeated, arching an eyebrow. "_Definitely_ just a rumor. " 

**T**he Potentials were on a roll that night.

At the far end of the Shady Hill Cemetery, Slayer Potential Rona had a vampire in a tight grip with his arms forced behind his back. "All right – bring it home, Evie!" 

Eve effortlessly drove a stake vertically upwards through the vampire's ribcage, targeting the heart from beneath, and stepped back as he exploded in a cloud of dust.

"Nice staking," Rona said appreciatively, wiping off her hands from the dust. "You came up with that now?"  

"No," Eve admitted, "I've been wanting to try it for a while. Actually, I think it's a little more messy than the usual method."

In another area of Shady Hill Cemetery – also known as Sunnydale's most frequented vampire uprising central - Dawn Summers dusted off her jacket, pleased with the second kill she had made that night. 

Although she wasn't exactly a Slayer Potential, the skills she had were enough to keep her alive on the nightly patrols she took with the girls.  Vampires seemed to have become so scarce in Sunnydale nowadays that even having a few extra around were 'a reason to party', in the Slayer definition of the phrase.  

"Dawn, heads up!" Dawn barely had time to react as Amanda crouched and sprung upwards in an awesome flying somersault that took her clean over Dawn's head and landed her on top of the vampire who had been preparing to spring on them. Keeping him down with her foot placed on his chest, Amanda finished him off before he even had time to flinch.

"Thanks," Dawn said, realizing that the vampire would have sprung on her before she even had time to notice him coming up behind her. _Sometimes, not being part of the Slayer Squad can be a drag. _Dawn stared at the spot where that vampire had stood and inwardly shivered. _Or, okay, lethal._

"Don't mention it," Amanda responded, straightening up and looking around. "I can't see any of the others from here – and where did Chloe go?" When seven of them were on patrol duty (which usually meant someone couldn't make it; in this case, Kennedy), the girls always formed two pairs and a trio, since it was easier than having one of them patrol on her own. 

"Hello! Needing some help over here!" Amanda and Dawn took off in the direction of Chloe's voice, only to find her backed up against a tombstone with a… _thing _looming over her. 

Both girls actually had to do a double take before they realized what they were looking at. The demon – if it even was a demon – had a body shaped like a pile of dough, and some kind of thick, sticky ooze dripped from layers of transparent blue flab attached to the thing's body, jiggling whenever the creature moved.

"Oh, my god. Gross," Dawn said, stepping back in extreme disgust.

"Tell me about it," Amanda agreed. "That is so _not _your standard sickening Hellmouth apparition."

"Hey – remember me? The girl who's about to be _eaten_?" Chloe called, shuddering as the creature seemed to draw back to survey the newcomers. While its attention was momentarily diverted, she darted out of its reach, but the thing got smart with her just in time to whip around – spraying ooze everywhere – and make a grab for her with one of its tentacles. 

Amanda hurled a stake at the creature as hard as she could, and it flipped through the air before puncturing the thing's outer flab with acute precision and continued on through the inner layers. While the girls watched, the stake was absorbed into the ooze and was left floating around in what they assumed to be the creature's transparent stomach. 

"Okay, so stakes aren't doing us any good." Amanda shrugged, taking a classic fighter's stance. "Then we'll just have to go hand-to-hand." She sprung into action with another one of her spinning kicks while Chloe tried punching the creature through its midsection; when she pulled her hand back out, it was covered in ooze, but the creature remained completely unharmed and standing. 

Dawn had no idea what to do, but she knew just standing around wasn't helping, so she grabbed the nearest object – a spade, probably left there by the Shady Hill undertaker – and brought it down on the thing with as much force as she could muster. 

It worked. Part of the flab flew off and a huge chunk of the creature's body was gone. Dawn took several other swings at the creature while it flailed its tentacles at her, but it was finally able to knock her down – Chloe got hold of the spade, though, and after a few moments of violent battering the creature exploded, hurling bits of flab and ooze everywhere. 

After they helped Dawn up, the girls took a few moments to catch their breath. "You know what I've noticed?" Chloe said, in between a few deep breaths. 

"No. What?" Amanda asked tiredly. 

"We take vampires for granted. We should be glad we don't have to fight any of _those _every day." 

"Tell me about it," Dawn groaned. She had just realized how hard she had hit the ground when she fell – after touching the back of her head gingerly, she found blood smeared on her fingers. 

"Ouch," Chloe said, surveying the wound. "You're going to need that cleaned."

Dawn shook her head. _Ow! Note to self: don't do that again. _"Not until we find the others."

"They'll be heading back to the house soon anyway," Amanda assured her.

"And afterwards, we might be able to persuade the Jail Warden -" by that, Chloe meant Giles "- to let us go out for a while; shopping, maybe?"

Dawn considered the idea and smiled. "I don't think this is the way I want to attract guys at the mall, but… well, we _have _earned it."

"Damn straight we have," Amanda grumbled. "That giant tapioca pudding almost ruined my favorite boots."

**TBC**


	4. Collision Course

**Author's Note: **I'm aware of the fact that not all of the Potentials in this fic are still alive, according to the original storyline of BtVS – but I wanted as many of them in this fic as possible, and so I chose them pretty much regardless of where they stood according to storyline. 

Anyway, thank you to anyone and everyone who reviewed - I really appreciated it. I still haven't made up my mind about pairings, but right now I'm not really leaning towards Dawn/Connor – it's been done too many times, and it seems as though they would make better friends than lovers. But I might actually start out with one set of pairings and then change them as the story progresses, so you never know. 

And finally, as the summary indicates, I've tried to bring up the story quality a little to match my usual standards – hopefully, it will make the story more enjoyable. 

Sidebar: Connor's thoughts and behavior in this fic might not correspond immediately with his appearance on the show, but I wanted to keep his character as intense as possible. (Who knows – maybe brooding is an inherited trait?) 

**Chapter IV: Collision Course**

**S**omehow, Connor couldn't seem to focus.  

He was staring absently at the darkness outside of the van window, barely noticing the few buildings they passed on their way through the outskirts of Sunnydale. His mind had drifted to a place where nothing besides his own thoughts and memories existed; a place where he was almost a prisoner in his own head. 

There were so many thoughts flickering and dying in his mind that he couldn't keep track of them, and he didn't try to; he just let them pass, like silent shadows slipping across his consciousness. His memories were more difficult to ignore – some of them were still vivid in his mind, fresh wounds from past battles, haunting him whenever he dwelled on them for too long. 

He remembered, somewhere along the road, hearing Tyrone calling him 'too deep for his own health'. And that was only scraping the surface; if he had known him better, that one summary wouldn't have gone far enough to describe Connor the way he was when there was no one else around to distract him. 

But no one really did know Connor well enough to be familiar with his thoughts - because he didn't let anyone get that close to him. Only once did he let anyone see truly inside of him, and that was during the one night he had spent with Cordelia. 

He had honestly, and for the first time, believed in love during that night. Cordelia had never mentioned the word, but somehow he knew she had felt it – and the thought was almost enough to break down the barriers he had built around himself. 

Almost, but not quite. Because when it had really mattered to Connor – when she had been faced with the choice between him and Angel – Cordelia had told Angel she had never belonged to Connor, and that she never would.

There was denying that it had hurt; it had hurt more than he could handle, and that was why he ran away that night. It wasn't about sex, as Angel seemed to assume: it was about love. And Connor had relinquished even the thought of love, after being rejected by Cordelia. In his eyes, it was a betrayal: in hers, it was simply an accident, a mistake.  

Connor had often wondered what she thought had given her the right to toy with him like that: sleeping with him after she had known him as a baby and had almost been a surrogate mother to him, and then leaving him for his own father. In some ways, it was more than just incest - it was disgusting. Angel had thought so, after he had found out; and now, Connor couldn't blame him.

"There's only about a five minute drive to the motel from here," Bryce said, turning around without taking his hands off the steering wheel and bringing Connor out of his reverie. "We should be able to find a room there – maybe not top-quality, but at least livable."

"I can handle living in almost anything," Connor responded, more as a true statement than a boast. If he survived in Quor-toth, he could definitely survive in Sunnydale.

"Good. Then we shouldn't have any problems." In the dim light inside of the van, Bryce's eyes – now a golden amber – almost seemed to glow in the dark. 

"Do you do that on purpose?" Connor asked, suddenly curious; at least asking questions would keep him from becoming lost in his own thoughts.

"Do what? Oh, you mean my eyes… No, it just happens naturally. I don't even notice the changes."

"We've been trying to work out if it's according to mood or anythin'," Tyrone added, "but so far it's been pretty random."

"My father was a shape-shifting Aurac demon," Bryce told them, "and my mother only found out after she was pregnant. I usually have to wear lenses to keep people from asking too many questions."

"And you?" Connor gestured at Tyrone's cheek. 

"My momma wasn't a demon, she just had some sort of genetic defect," Tyrone replied, touching the scars on his cheek lightly. "Supposedly somethin' to do with feline DNA gettin' mixed into hers."

Bryce gave out a low whistle. "It's a strange world out there." Then he turned back to Connor. "So, what's your story?" 

Connor paused, opening his mouth and considering whether to completely lie or give them an alternative version of the truth. Meanwhile, his gaze went to the windshield - and for a single moment, his breath caught in his chest.

Tyrone had turned as well, and he drew in a sharp gasp. "Bryce, man, turn around – look out -"

But it was too late. Everything from there on moved in slow motion: the van approaching the intersection… the other two cars coming in from different directions… the stop light glaring red… Bryce trying to regain control of the car, panicking… 

Screeches of brakes and skidding wheels… The loud, shrill, grating cry of metal on metal… Fumes and smoke… And then… 

Silence.

It was the last thing Connor was aware of before he passed out. 

**To Be Continued. **   ****


	5. Dealing With The Consequences

**Chapter V: Dealing With The Consequences**

**S**unnydale General Hospital was having a busy night. 

There had been a sudden epidemic of measles at a nearby elementary school, and a group of overprotective parents were insisting on having their children checked up on by a doctor before pressing charges against the school; a party at a downtown diner had resulted in several teenagers coming down with suspicious food poisoning; and there had been an accident at a nearby construction site, injuring several workers. 

And then, of course, there was the collision at the Lowell Road intersection. Dr. Lynn Horton flipped through the chart handed to her by the paramedics: the accident victims were three males and eight females, assumed to be between sixteen and twenty years old. According to the paramedics' conclusions, three of them – the ones found in the driver's seats – had suffered severe head traumas, five others had broken bones in two or more areas, and all were suspected of internal bleeding. 

Dr. Horton sighed as she tracked down the rooms of those who had already been taken out of OR. _When will people ever learn? _After all that she had seen, it never ceased to amaze her how the same mistakes were repeated over and over, sometimes even by the same people. 

Flipping through the chart again, she found that there were three vehicles involved: one belonging to the male teenagers, the other to seven of the females, and the third to the remaining female. No kind of identification had been found in any of the vehicles. 

She had been told by a nurse that the four girls who had already regained consciousness had been moved to room E327, and it didn't take her long to locate it; after spending over seven years at the same hospital, its white halls had become all too familiar to her.

"Well," Dr. Horton said, walking into the room, "it's nice to see that you're all alert." Actually, all four girls looked almost perfectly healthy; except, of course, for the bandages that one of them was busy trying to peel off of her arm. 

"These things are only good for making my skin itch," the girl explained, glancing at the doctor briefly before throwing the bandage away and rubbing her arm. 

"I hear you," another girl agreed. "Eve always says they're a waste of good gauze."

"That reminds me… where is Eve? And Chloe?" The first girl suddenly fixed her attention on the doctor. 

"You mean the others who were in the car with you?" Dr. Horton asked, tucking the clipboard under her arm as she mentally noted that there were no apparent injuries among any of the girls. 

"Yes…" The girl sitting at the far end of the room shut her eyes briefly. "There were seven of us. In the car. During the accident…" She was speaking slowly, as though she were trying to remind herself what had happened. "Amanda - Amanda was driving. She… where is she?"

Dr. Horton sighed. _Possible disorientation – going to have to run a CAT scan on this one. _After a while, she had stopped noticing that she had even begun to think in medical terms. "I think you'd better start by giving me your names."

The girl at the far end nodded. "I'm Dawn – and this is Molly, Rona and Vi," she said, gesturing at each of them in turn. _Good – no apparent memory loss, _Dr. Horton noted. "You're going to have to give me your surnames as well - and your phone numbers." __

The girls remained quiet for a few moments, and then the one who'd called herself Dawn sighed. "My full name's Dawn Summers. I'll give you my phone number – you can reach anyone you want to from there."

Dr. Horton took the girl's word for it and wrote down her phone number. "All right. I'm going to call up your parents -"

"Sister," Dawn corrected. "My parents are gone," she explained simply, seeing the suspicion on the woman's face. 

"All right, then, I'll call up your sister and then I'll go check on your friends. I'll be back in just a few moments." She started to leave, but then turned around mid-stride. "By the way – do you know anything about the people in the other cars involved in the accident?"

They all shook their heads no, and the doctor sighed. "Never mind; it was a long shot anyway." After she had left, silence fell over the small hospital room. 

"I don't remember much of what happened," Vi said, finally breaking the silence. "It all seems like such a blur."

"I feel that way too," Rona added. "And I have a massive headache coming on – I don't think the Slayer super-healing package comes with migraine protection." 

They would usually have laughed, but instead the silence settled back into the room, stifling anything that might even have resembled laughter. "When she said 'the other cars', how many do you think she was talking about?" Molly asked, trying to break the heavy mood. 

"I don't know. Probably just a few," Vi said. Then her voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "What if someone… you know… didn't make it?"

"You mean one of the other girls?" Dawn's head snapped up, and the sudden pain made her flinch. "No. No way - it couldn't have been that bad." She paused, helplessness suddenly showing in her features. "Right?"

"You're probably right," Rona said soothingly. "We came out fine, didn't we? And it takes a lot to bring down a Slayer."

"Yes, but we're not actually Slayers," Vi pointed out. She wasn't deliberately trying to sink their hopes, they all knew that - she just wanted to be as realistic as possible.

"Oh, God, I hope they're all right," Molly whispered. Dawn sank her head into her hands, trying to clear her mind. _Vampires, demons, monsters… Those we can handle. Not car accidents. _

A few moments later, Dr. Horton returned to the room, carrying her clipboard. She cleared her throat a few times, and when all the girls had fixed their attention on her she drew a deep sigh. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Dawn had always hated that sentence; she remembered all the TV shows she had seen, where people ended up in comas or died and the doctor always broke the news with 'I'm afraid I have some bad news…'  

_Oh, God, please… Please, just don't let anyone have died… Please…_

"Your friends were severely injured, and they were taken to an operating room as soon as you got here…"

_And they're fine. They're going to be just fine… _

"And, well, there were a lot of internal complications – almost too many to handle. The doctors who operated on them did all they could…"

_But they're going to be sore for a little while, or need wheelchairs for a few weeks. Come on, anything but dead… They can't be dead… _

"We managed to fit your descriptions to them - and two of them are going to be a little shaken for a while, but eventually fine."

Dawn started to draw a relieved breath, but then she remembered that she had only said 'two of them'. _Two? But then… No… _Dawn had never been a very religious person, but at that moment she prayed as hard as she could to whatever higher force existed in the universe; she just couldn't stand the thought of surviving Doomsday itself and then losing yet another person she cared about.__

"The one you called Chloe… Her injuries were more complicated than those of the others…"

_No, not Chloe… Please, no… _

"She didn't make it. I'm sorry."

**To Be Continued. **  


	6. Ripple Effect

**Chapter**** VI: Ripple Effect**

**I**t was a hospital room. Regardless of his limited knowledge of the world, Connor knew it as soon as he awoke in an unfamiliar bed in a brightly lit room where the air smelled sterile and the furniture looked strangely unused. 

For a few moments, all he could do was blink up at the light fixtures on the ceiling as he tried to regain his bearing, but soon he realized that he wasn't hurting anywhere and that he was still fully mobile, even though his limbs felt a little stiff. 

A small needle was strapped to his arm, connecting him to an IV tube that was supposedly feeding back lost fluids into his body – Wesley had explained most of it during one of his attempts at home schooling – and it took Connor a few moments to pull it out, but he finally managed to slide it out without tearing any skin.

He needed to find the other two, but he knew that trying to find them on his own would be futile, and he would probably only end up getting lost. He also realized that his own clothes were gone, and that he was wearing a pale blue hospital gown that almost made him laugh out loud when he looked down at it. __

"Yes, hospital gowns can be like that," a woman standing in the doorway told him, smiling when he turned his head around to glare at her. 

"Where are my clothes?" He asked, his voice perfectly cold. After all, it was the first rule of survival: trust no one. 

"A nurse will be bringing them in for you. And we found a couple of things in that van you were in – we're going to need you to identify them for us later on. But for now," she continued, "sit down and let's talk."

"About…?" Connor prompted, arching an eyebrow. The woman watched him quietly, her eyes seeming to take a mental note of him as they moved. "The accident," she said, apparently watching for a reaction. 

Connor sighed, trying to remember what had happened before he awoke – but his memories seemed jumbled, for some reason. "I don't remember it," he admitted finally, frustrated by the way his head ached the more he tried to remember.

"You might have a slight concussion," the woman told him. "It's perfectly natural in situations like these, and shouldn't last too long. I'm Doctor Horton," she added, taking a pen from the chest pocket of her white robe. "And your name is…?" She prompted. 

He sighed again, knowing it would just be easier to co-operate. "Connor Holtz." Dr. Horton nodded, writing it down on the clipboard she had carried in with her. "All right, Connor, can you give me the names – and descriptions - of the others who were in the car with you last night?"

Connor told her their first names, but explained that he didn't know any of their surnames. "That's not necessary," Dr. Horton said, remembering the girls in room E327. "As long as I can identify them. Actually, I think the one you called Tyrone is in one of the next rooms, having a cut cleaned up. Amazingly enough, he doesn't seem to be hurt too badly."

When Connor wanted to know when he could see him, Dr. Horton told him that it might be a few minutes – first, she wanted to track down Bryce, and then she would see what she could do about getting his clothes back. Connor waited until she left the room to collapse in an armchair placed against a corner, running his hands through his hair in a nervous habit he had adapted recently. 

It seemed as though his life had moved into slow motion and then suddenly jolted into fast forward, throwing him head-on into some sort of spinning abyss. Not that Bryce and Tyrone had become incredibly close to Connor during the few days he had known them, but without them he would be stranded in Sunnydale, unable to move forward or back. 

And so, he waited. He waited, in fact, for exactly thirty-seven minutes (with nothing else to do, he had kept his eyes on the clock hanging on the opposite wall) before Dr. Horton re-entered the room. She was carrying a plain white plastic bag in which Connor found his clothes, neatly folded into a pile. "I found your friend Bryce," she told him, and her tone made Connor look up sharply. "And?"

"And… he was injured in the accident. When the van collided, the impact twisted the entire structure of the vehicle. Apparently, Bryce's legs were caught in the area underneath the dashboard when part of it collapsed on them." She watched Connor, but his face was expressionless. 

"He was operated on, but it wasn't enough. He's still in a drug-induced sleep, but when he wakes up…" Dr. Horton sighed. It never got any easier. "Most of the muscles in his legs were completely torn. It's doubtful whether he'll ever regain motor functions in those limbs."

"You mean he won't be able to walk," Connor said, his tone more harsh than he had intended. The doctor nodded. "Yes."

"So he'll need a wheelchair? Permanently?" Connor couldn't help but feel angry for Bryce's sake; after an accident that barely lasted a few moments, he could end up lame for the rest of his life. 

"Definitely over the next eight weeks. Then we'll check up on him again, and if there are any signs of improvement…" She sighed. "We'll see. But I don't want to get his hopes up too soon."

Connor nodded absently. Dr. Horton realized that he was no longer paying attention to her and was about to leave the room, when Connor suddenly snapped back into focus. "What about the others?" he asked. 

She looked surprised. "Which others?"

"The people in the other vehicles – they were taken here, weren't they?" 

"Yes, they were… Why do want to know?" Dr. Horton asked. Connor ignored the question. "What can you tell me about them?" he asked instead, feeling as though he had a right to know. 

"Well, there were a group of girls and one other young woman – I've seen the girls, but another doctor is handling the last patient." When Connor's eyes clearly prompted her for more information, she continued, "one of the girls died about an hour ago – she had critical damage to her spinal cord that she couldn't have survived even if we _had _reached her in time. The rest are doing fine. As for the remaining patient, I believe she's in a coma; apparently she suffered some nerve damage and a possible concussion."

Connor listened intently without really knowing why. He didn't know these people, couldn't possibly care about them – but somehow, strangely, he felt connected to them. The accident seemed to have had some kind of ripple effect, involving more people than he had guessed at first – and being one of those directly involved made him wonder how the others were feeling and what was going through their heads. 

"Would you like to meet them?" Dr. Horton asked suddenly. Connor remained silent for a moment, thinking it over, and the doctor went on to tell him that she had been planning on bringing those involved and their relatives together. "I think maybe talking to each other would be a way of handling the grief and shock that you're all probably experiencing."

It didn't sound like such a bad idea to Connor. 

**TBC. **


	7. Tangled Lives

**Chapter VII: Tangled Lives**

**O**n most nights, Buffy Summers was a good driver: sane, patient and in full control of the wheel. 

Tonight was not one of those nights. 

After receiving the call from the hospital, Buffy hadn't wasted any time in storming out of the house to get to her baby sister – with, of course, the group of people who decided to storm out with her. Kennedy, Willow, Xander, Giles and Faith had all piled into the Summers family SUV before Buffy even had time to protest, and she knew that it would only be a waste of time to argue with them. 

Besides, the way she was feeling, it was good having them around - because she knew they were feeling basically the same things: anxiousness, worry, and fear for what might have happened. Even Faith looked grim as Buffy sped down the nearest road to the hospital, weaving in and out of traffic, accompanied by a chorus of honking whenever she narrowly swerved between two cars.

No one spoke during the entire ten-minute drive to the hospital, and as soon as they arrived they burst through the doors and made a beeline for the counter where a nurse was busy typing in files on a computer. 

"My name's Buffy Summers – my sister Dawn was brought in here about an hour ago," she said briefly, wanting to waste as little time as possible. 

"You were called in by Dr. Horton?" the nurse asked, looking up at them calmly. It bothered Buffy, the way most nurses seemed to handle people like objects. 

"Yes," she replied shortly, and the nurse gestured with her arm at a nearby corridor. "Room M125, fourth door on your left. Dr. Horton should be expecting you." 

The room turned out to be a waiting room more than a hospital room; there was no actual equipment inside the room and the only furniture was a sofa, a number of armchairs and a few coffee tables. On close examination, Dr. Horton turned out to be a tall, 40-ish woman with graying blonde hair and a clipboard that seemed permanently attached to her arm.

"Miss Summers – it's nice to see you've come," the doctor said, motioning for all of them to sit down. "I tried contacting the relatives of all those involved, but it seems you were the only ones able to make it."

"We still don't even know exactly what happened," Buffy said, fixing her gaze on the woman's face. _If anything happened to Dawn… or the girls… _she let the thought trail off and tried to ignore the heavy feeling in her chest as Dr. Horton began to explain the details of the accident. 

When she broke the news about Chloe, they were all shocked. Dr. Horton explained the circumstances of her injuries, and a heavy silence settled as the reality of it sank in. The mood didn't lighten when Dr. Horton informed them that the rest pf the girls were unharmed, but at least they were relieved that things hadn't turned out any worse.  "Can we see them?" Buffy asked, forcing out the words through the choking knot in her throat.

"Yes, but I also wanted to speak to you about the other accident victims. A total of eleven people were directly involved in the incident, I feel that it might be best if I could speak to all of you personally at one time, to help clear up any doubts or worries."

Buffy glanced at Giles before agreeing, and the ex-Watcher nodded reassuringly. A few moments later the girls walked in, and Buffy leapt out of her seat and electrified Dawn with a tight hug, so relieved she felt as though something inside of her was bursting. "Buffy…" Dawn whispered, clinging to her sister. "It was horrible… And Chloe…" Unable to control it any longer, she sobbed against her sister's sweater, finally letting out all of the emotions that had been building up inside of her. 

"I know," Buffy cut her off, her voice muffled by her own tears. "I know, Dawnie. Chloe was a good friend to all of us. But at least you're safe," she added in a whisper. For a few moments, all anyone could do was comfort each other – each of the Potentials and Dawn received more hugs than they could count, and more than one sweater ended up stained with tears that night 

The reunion was brought to a pause when the door swung open and three boys – one in a wheelchair – silently entered the room and stood just inside the doorway. Dr. Horton waited for the momentary tension in the room to subside before introducing the newcomers. 

No one knew exactly what to say. Small talk was out of the question, and a simple 'hello' just wasn't good enough. Finally, Bryce fixed his eyes – covered by plain green lenses – on the group and broke the silence. "We heard about your loss," he said, and his calm, cool voice carried a sad note, "and we're sorry."

"Thank you," Dawn responded quietly, smiling despite of her watery eyes. "We're all sorry." 

And it was as though a ripple of relief moved through the room, breaking whatever ice had existed there, lifting the heaviness that had weighed upon everybody's shoulders. Suddenly, though, Kennedy took a mental inventory of the room – mostly out of habit – and noticed something. 

"You said that there were eleven people directly involved in the accident," she commented. "I only count ten."

"Yes, I was getting to that," Dr. Horton said, sighing for the hundredth time that day. "It seems that the girl who was in the third car has just awoken from a coma. She's being examined by a neurologist now, but she seems to exhibiting signs of severe amnesia."

"How severe?" Giles asked, partly out of concern and partly out of curiosity.

"Critical; from what I've been told, she can't even remember her name. We're hoping it won't be permanent, but if it is we're probably going to have to hand her over to the social welfare department."

Dr. Horton went on to tell them that the vehicles had been severely damaged, and would probably never be fully operational again. The boys were especially affected by the news, since it left them with no means of transportation and nowhere to go; and there was still the issue of what to do with the potential Jane Doe. 

Buffy was quiet throughout most of the conversation, listening with half her attention and watching the people around her with the other half. Connor, Tyrone and Bryce were talking quietly among themselves, trying to work out the tangle they seemed to have gotten themselves into; the Potentials were sadly reminiscing about Chloe; and most of the adults were discussing the accident with Dr. Horton. 

Buffy thought about how lucky Dawn and the others had been to get away basically unharmed; they could have been stranded runaways like the boys or ended up with memory loss, like that girl. If it had happened to Dawn… Buffy didn't let the thought trail off this time, and the full force of it affected her. 

_If it had been Dawn, I would have given everything to know she was alive and safe, _she thought. _I wouldn't have wanted her to end up stranded in some strange town, or lying in a coma with no memory of her life. _

And it just clicked into place, before she even had time to think it over properly – think over the costs, or the consequences. She realized that right now was not the time to worry about costs and consequences. 

Now was the time to help. "So…" she said, turning to the trio of boys. They looked up at her in surprise, obviously wondering what she was going to say.

"We have some extra living space back at the house that we can afford to lend to someone for a few weeks. Interested?"

**The End. (Sequel coming soon…?) **


End file.
